The Wall Won’t Move, but, I Understand


“If you are self-aware of what you are going through, you would be in a better position to understand others, and affect people around you.” ― Oscar Auliq-Ice


Yesterday I learned about a young man, who lives two rows over from me, had to have surgery on his hands. He was being treated for “boxer’s hands”. I knew him as a young pre-teen and he had a terrible temper. When asked about his hands it came to the light that he in a fit of anger punched the wall. In doing so he hit a wall stud. Apparently this was not the first time. Now he has his hands in bandages from surgery and cannot work.

I grew up around that type of anger, anger in which you never knew what would ignite it. Being around those with that type of anger you would walk gingerly and would filter your words carefully. I learned which words could cause a volcano of anger. Politics, racial discussions, and yes, sometimes religion. To this very day I begin to shake and tremble when I see someone’s anger level rising.


Now, onto what I was thinking when I saw the quote I inserted at the top of this post.

If someone mentions the word “migraine” they would recognize it as some type of headache. My thought is this, would they identify with the pain and discomfort a migraine can cause to a person. For myself I have to lay down in a dark room and try to fall asleep. There are times that Gravol is necessary for an upset stomach. So, when I hear someone talk about a migraine I can have empathy for them and what they are going through.

I have had a bad back for as long as I can remember. Being sent flying through the air, while being a passenger on a motorcycle, I landed butt first and totally damaged the back. Last year I found some relief with cortisone shots. I received two treatments in my back and for the time being my back has not been in severe pain. If you have a bad back and suffer with pain, I understand how it limits your range of motion.

A doctor could put up a power point presentation about nerve endings that run through your spinal cord. He probably would be speaking to a medical versed audience. For everyone else his words would go straight over our heads.

When it comes to depression the subject is very broad and very deep. One thousand people could be asked about their depression and for the greater percentage everyone would have a different experience. Yes, there may be parts of their journey I could understand, but, there would also be parts that I would have no knowledge or understanding about it.

So dear reader, I use my own experiences as a launching board for most of my posts. Sometimes, it may seem like I am repeating myself, it is probably true. When I write I do it with understanding that maybe those who are reading will also be able to relate to my experiences.

#7776

I think that age as a number is not nearly as important as health. You can be in poor health and be pretty miserable at 40 or 50. If you’re in good health, you can enjoy things into your 80s. Bob Barker Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/good-health-quotes


While growing up I never once gave it much thought about my health.  I was physically active.  Even after breaking both arms, I still gave little thought about health.  I would walk across the city in my teen years to see my then girl friend. I walked to the farm where I picked tomatoes to earn money for the school year. Then once there would work a full day picking thirty baskets of tomatoes.
Lately however, I have been thinking about my health more often.  Getting around the house is somewhat a challenge. Walking with a cane, or my walker is an exercise of moving around obstacles.  My pace has become slower and trying to answer the phone is a challenge in and of itself.
My bathroom looks like ones you would see in long term care homes. Just taking a shower sends me into a mild panic. I cannot just step into the tub anymore. First, I take a seat on the bench in the tub.  Then I swing the right leg in, following lifting and slowly moving my other leg into the tub. Grabbing onto grab rails I begin to stand upright, panicking the whole time doing so.  Turning around causes a cold wave of panic for fear of falling.
I no longer cook for myself, not confident that I could handle an emergency, I feel I would not be fast enough to respond to something like a grease fire. So, I am thankful for my best friend for cooking for me. 
Today was different for me. The basics were the same, no major changes to my routine waking up and getting moving. No, it was different with me mentally.  For this time my thinking was about leaving my home and placing myself in a long term care home.  I was feeling like I could no longer truly care for myself.
More and more just doing the smallest and simplest things, getting up to warm up a cup of coffee is a fight that leaves me windless.
So dear reader, if you have good health, be thankful for it. Work to keep it that way, for it can be taken from you ever so slowly.  For those who already have physical challenges my sympathies are with you.
Always be thankful and grateful for good health!

Molded, Bended, Incomplete, Identity, Gender, Adequate

“Identity is a prison you can never escape, but the way to redeem your past is not to run from it, but to try to understand it, and use it as a foundation to grow.”- Jay Z

I guess have wandered for most of my life, fifty-nine years, who am I. I take out my wallet when asked for identification, my birth certificate states my full name, the date of my birth, and where I was born, for me that was the province of Ontario, Canada.

But I still ask the question, who am I? Is it the color of my eyes, my gender, my faith, or even my anatomically body. Is it define by the ones I have chosen to love, those who I have decided to let into my circle of friends.

This question of identity was brought home that one sunny day when I found myself in a hospital ward that deals with people who are suffering and challenged with mental health issues. Even in there I hid a part of me, a part that I thought, and maybe still think, is hideous.

I started this blog because it piqued my interest, the wanna be journalist inside me, and maybe a wanna be novelist. I am the first one to admit that my strength is not writing. I probably make grammatical errors after time I publish a post.

I chose what I knew the most, it was my faith and my knowledge and understanding of the Bible. My posts didn’t move the needle. Oh, every once in awhile someone would take note of what I had written. Yet, there wasn’t a fire in me, a fire that said, that urged me to sit at the computer and write posts. My writing then was spotty with my thoughts rambling from post to post.

Feeling like I belong, I have it all together, and nothing to worry about, these descriptions speaks of someone of who I wish I was. I entered high school weighing less than ninety-nine pounds. My muscle tone was in hiding, so at the height of six foot one inch I looked like something of a half made coat tree.

I relate to others who are belittled, treaded upon, and pushed to the sides of the ride by those who are maybe smarter, are at the top of their game. I still do not have it all together, but, I have learned ways to mask those feelings of inadequacies, those feeling of inferiority. It may answer why I watched cartoons and TV shows with super heroes like Superman, Wonder Woman, and even Batman.

I would watch shows, see posts of, men who had a six pack for ribs, and there muscle tone ripple from their shoulder down to their forearm. Honestly, I still have feelings of inadequacies when I see some guy who looks like he has spent all of his extra time in a gym somewhere to give himself that buffed look.

Maybe, my writings, my posts brings across of a guy who has it all together. A guy who knows who he really is. I am far from that, I am not that super guy like the one you would see on an Harlequin romance novel. No, let me assure you, I am not some six foot, a body with ripped muscles from my head down to my feet. No, I am not that man who could pick up a lady and whisk her out from the gangs while held by my arms as I swing her to the ledge of a window.

However, my identity, the person that knows itself when he closes his eyes at bedtime, that person is under there somewhere, somewhere beyond the words written together, the being behind those words that create paragraphs, that speaks about those things I have faced in this body, one person who needs medication to keep me stable, one medication to help start my day, an another one that is meant to keep me stable. Then at the end of the day a pill to give me a calm, and a peaceful night’s sleep. All those medications are taken, that have their purpose to keep this bi-polar man walking up-right.

So dear reader, who am I, who is this person that wakes up day after day, places two feet on the floor, and does his best to be the best human I can project in this world that I am travelling through.

So, I am the sum total of a man, who has a function, a man who is working through this life being the person I am meant to be. To learn, love, belong, engage, to listen, learn from others that I encounter along this path, a path at it’s very best, a road map, from beings of all different sizes, shapes, and colors.

So, hear me, listen to me, engage with me, and help me in my path of who I am on this journey. I am not complete, I still am learning, still encountering along this journey those things that are helping to make the best man I can be. For I am more that I was yesterday, still being shaped and molded into what I hope and pray will be the best, just me, the best me.!

A Poet and Poem That Moved My Heart

On January 20th a young poet laureate, Amanda Gorman took the microphone at the podium during the President’s Inauguration and read a poem of her creation. I thought I would place it here.

When I heard this young woman one other poet entered my mind, the poet, the late, Maya Angelou. I truly hope that we will hear more from poet laureate, Amanda Gorman. Her voice seems to be needed at a time like this in the world.

Suicide Myths – #3

Trigger Warning: This post contains subjects and issues that may be upsetting to some.

Being suicidal isn’t about wanting to die. It’s about quieting the pain inside. –Unknown


Source: Psychology Today

People often commit suicide for rational reasons. – False!

I write this post with some ache in my heart. It is about a young first nation man. I had begun to know the family and also him. I had him come to my home to spend a weekend together. Then I went to his apartment to visit. We had fun talking about things concerning his culture.

Several months passed since seeing him. I then received the news that the young man had committed suicide. They found him hanging from the shower rod in his bathroom.

Back on that day when I swallowed a bottle full of sleeping pills it wasn’t for anything that was rational. I attempted suicide because I felt like I just couldn’t hold onto things that I was told to believe. The attempt wasn’t planned, I hadn’t given much thought prior in doing so. I was upset and angry because of an argument I was having with a certain friend. I grabbed the pills, ran into the bathroom, took the top of the pill bottle off, and then swallowed all of them in one quick gulp. It was not a rational thing, trying to commit suicide over an argument.

One time not so long ago I had to call an ambulance. While in the ambulance I asked about the new drug, new at that time, Naloxone. The ambulance attendant told me that they had used it six times just that morning.

When I was about eight or nine there was a death of a great uncle of mine. The adults were speaking in hushed tones. Eventually, I found out what happened that day. My great uncle was found in the garage with the car running and laying under the exhaust pipe. I don’t believe my great aunt had any idea why he did that. I truly feel the family still has no real answer.

So dear reader, when it comes to have a reason about why people commit suicide, they are no rational reasons.

Mental Health on Thin Ice

Howie Mandel

“There isn’t anybody out there who doesn’t have a mental health issue, whether it’s depression, anxiety, or how to cope with relationships. Having OCD is not an embarrassment anymore–for me. Just know that there is help and your life could be better if you go out and seek the help.”


This past several days or week has been one of the most frustrating times I have had to deal with. It just wasn’t one event, but, it was the culmination of several events. My mind was screaming, screaming to take back control.

I have always had great admiration of those who are physically challenged. It has always amazed me when I would watch the Paralympics how the athletes could face the challenge of a ski slope, or play hockey sitting on a type of sled. I am not one of those, but, I have a physical challenge with one leg and hip that does not want to function. It screams every time I have to move it.

Then came a household emergency when my furnace decided to quit working. I had to think fast to find a solution. That emergency will set me back when I have to pay the bill. Also, one more financial stress moment when there was a misunderstanding in regards to a service that is offered, but, is totally an arm of the Provincial Government.

That brings me to last night while I am sitting on the side of my bed talking to my doctor. Talking while in the midst of a total break with tears streaming my down my face. He switched me meds that are meant to handle the pain and also try to give me a better rest when I sleep.

I came to realize this morning that my mental health was on thin ice. Thoughts of going to the emergency to speak with a Mental Health advocate and maybe admitting myself to the mental health ward.

The pressure cooker that I spoke of yesterday, “One of These Days Alice...”. Well that cooker boiled over, and thankfully no harm done. Just a reminder, my mental health needs to be attended to daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly!

So dear reader, take the time to nurture your mental health. Do not wait for a “thin ice” moment to remind you of that fact!

One of These Days Alice…(Ralph Cramden -The Honeymooners)

Intolerance is a thing that causes war, pogroms, crucifixions, lynchings, and makes people cruel to little children and each other. It is responsible for most of the viciousness, violence, terror, and heart and soul breaking of the world. – Betty Smith


Tolerance:

1 : capacity to endure pain or hardship : endurance, fortitude, stamina.

2a : sympathy or indulgence for beliefs or practices differing from or conflicting with one’s own.

b : the act of allowing something : toleration.


Acceptance:

1: the quality or state of being accepted or acceptableHis theories have gained widespread acceptance.

2: the act of accepting something or someone the fact of being accepted APPROVALacceptance of responsibility

3 law an agreeing either expressly or by conduct to the act or offer of another so that a contract is concluded and the parties become legally bound


Over the last couple of weeks my tolerance has been tested. I ask myself when do I draw a line in the sand and say, “that’s enough”.

Thinking about the difference between “tolerance” and “acceptance”. For this fifty-nine year old guy there are times I only tolerate something. I may tolerate it because just to keep peace. With acceptance it is the complete wholeness that I accept something flaws and all.

Before counseling years ago my tolerance level was not very high. I guess I was like an unwatched “pressure cooker”. I have learned the ability to express myself with tolerance without it turning into a shouting match.

This blog has become my steam valve in many aspects. I find after I have finished writing that my mind seems clearer.

This week I have been feeling like some take advantage of someone’s tolerance. They push buttons looking for a response. They pick at you, constantly asking questions repeatedly waiting for you to explode. If you explode or sound cranky their reply sounds something like this, “boy someone is certainly touchy”.

I am not sure how far a person can go with their tolerance. What has to take place to where tolerance goes out the window? That is what I am asking myself this last couple of days. Dealing with someone who seems to not understand what your concern or need is. It is those on the other end of the phone conversation that has been testing my tolerance.

So dear reader, how far does your tolerance go and what would push you over the edge? This curious guy would like to hear…lol

p.s. – Ralph Cramden was a character on a fifties tv show. When he and his wife, Alice, would have an argument, Ralph would tell her, “one of these days Alice, pow, bang, boom, straight to the moon.” (picture a man with fists clenched making a punching motion)

Belong, Belong To, Belonging

“You must get lost outside your comfort zone to find where you truly belong.”
 Debasish Mridha


Cambridge Dictionary: B2[ I ]to feel happy or comfortable in a situation:

To Fit In: Cambridge Dictionary: C1to feel that you belong to a particular group and are accepted by that group:

I have never felt like I belonged. I grew up feeling out of place. Not really a nerd and definitely not a jock. When I entered high school I only weighed ninety-nine pounds, really, I am not kidding.

I didn’t have many friends in school, come to think about it, I never really had lots of friends as an adult. It seems I would only have one close friend at any given time in my life. It still holds true to this very day!

Maybe, I may be mistaken, but I feel everyone wants to belong. Belong to a group, a team, or just a couple of friends. I once heard or read, that the loneliest place to be is in a crowd. There just might be some truth to it.

I keep thinking that maybe if I would get out more I would feel happier. Nah, I don’t like being with lots of people. I remember once while in high school when I was invited to a party. For some odd reason I decided to go. There was lots of kids I knew, but, I was feeling awkward so I left after being there for just over an hour.

It’s just lately I find myself feeling like I am in a hamster wheel. Sorry hamsters, that wheel is all you have to exercise with. Really though, my days seem to meld and if it wasn’t for certain t.v. programs I would have to ask what day it is.

So dear reader, I wonder if the feeling of wanting to belong is all that it is cracked up to be!

Attitude or Attitude?

You cannot control what happens to you, but you can control your attitude toward what happens to you, and in that, you will be mastering change rather than allowing it to master you. Brian Tracy


noun

  1. manner, disposition, feeling, position, etc., with regard to a person or thing; tendency or orientation, especially of the mind: a negative attitude; group attitudes.

2. position or posture of the body appropriate to or expressive of an action, emotion, etc.: a threatening attitude; a relaxed attitude.


Growing up in Windsor, Ontario taught me quite a lot about attitude. Attitude good, or attitude bad.

The attitude good is hard to see, but, I feel you can have attitude that is good, you are sure of yourself. This good attitude leaves people feeling good, feeling like, “he really does listen to what I am saying”.

The attitude bad would be the one that leaves you saying, “what a snob”. There is also the attitude where the person is walking around with a “chip” on his shoulder just begging for someone to try and knock it off.

A family member had just bought a car and was preparing to cross the border into Detroit, MI. They had on a long dark blue over coat. I mentioned that there will be problems with the crossing guards if they wore that coat. Sure enough, they did have trouble. Pulled into secondary exam area they were told to go inside. Once inside they were taken into a private room and was stripped search. Border guards can detect those with rotten attitudes.

The preacher I travelled with was invited to hold a crusade in New York City. I was newly married and opted out of going. He took a different organist. Now this organist had an attitude problem. He thought he was better than everyone else. They arrived in New York City and the Pastor explained to them not to go outside on their own because it would not be safe. For some reason the organist didn’t listen and stepped outside. Once outside a group took him and beat him. They robbed him of jewelry and left him with a broken jaw.

I have never really had a problem with most people. I learned from being in Detroit and also Toronto to mind my business. Not to look down on others, just keep moving in the direction you are going. I have found people are decent when they are interacting with someone who does not have a bad attitude. I have found that to be true throughout Canada and the United States.

So, dear reader, it boils down to this, “attitude, attitude, attitude”!

A Re-blog:PANIC ATTACK VS ANXIETY ATTACK — Healthstead Global limited

***I found this post and thought it was well done. Visit the blogger and let the blogger know if you like the post.***

__________________________________________________________________________________________

PANIC ATTACK VS ANXIETY ATTACK.There is much more fear behind an anxiety attack on the other hand, panic attacks are unpredictable major stressors. PANIC ATTACK; The symptoms are more intense and can cause a major disruption in your day.They are characterised by the following symptoms.☆ Heart palpitations☆ Excessive sweating☆ Trembling or shaking☆ Sensation of shortness […]

PANIC ATTACK VS ANXIETY ATTACK — Healthstead Global limited

Advocate?

“I learned a long time ago the wisest thing I can do is be on my own side, be an advocate for myself and others like me.”- Maya Angelou. Maya Angelo

Advocate –

a. a person who speaks or writes in support or defense of a person, cause, etc. (usually followed by of):

b. an advocate of peace.a person who pleads for or in behalf of another; intercessor.


Yesterday I woke up to find that my furnace wasn’t working. My best friend, he means well, called one of the managers to take a look. Well he tinkered and tried different things to no avail. Finally, I took the reigns and called the company that I have dealt with over the years. I told them my problem, they asked me ‘what type of furnace I had’. I replied to that by saying it was them that installed it. So, because I had good credit with them I was able to have someone come and fix my furnace. The repairman came in, took out a small part, replaced it with a new part, the furnace was fixed in a matter of fifteen minutes.

I told that story to say this, I have learned quite a long time ago that I am my best advocate. I have learned to speak up when it comes to my physical health, my emotional health, and yes, even my financial health.

I wonder at time what if there were never a person by the name of, Martin Luther King Jr., where would the African Americans be today. It was because of King Jr., that eventually saw Lyndon B. Johnson sign the Civil Rights Bill.

Imagine if we would have lost the war against America, Canada just might have been a large state of the United States.

When I was younger the only time I would stand up for myself was when I was provoked to anger. With that anger I only screwed things up for myself. I had to learn how to speak for myself minus the anger. It took me years to find my voice, the voice that was able to speak for myself, the voice when used brought results. I had now learned to be an advocate, an advocate for myself. I could not wait for someone else to come along and speak for me. I had to do the job myself.

When I started having trouble with my hip the doctor took the usual route of examination, get and x-ray. When it came back negative I decided that wasn’t enough. With some careful pressure the doctor finally ordered an MRI. The results came back that there definitely was a problem, I need a hip replacement. If I would have not pushed for the MRI I probably would still be suffering, suffering with no apparent reason why I am having such pain and discomfort.

So dear reader, if you need something done for yourself, do not wait for the prince on a shiny white horse to come to your rescue. You need to stand up, become your own advocate. Don’t always accept the first negative answer you get!

Diabetic Lemon Filling- Pie or Tarts

This filling has become one of my favorites. I am not diabetic, but I love the taste. Amazingly it does not shrink away from the sides of the crust. Give it a try the next time you make a lemon pie or some tarts.

1 1/2 cups of Splenda No Calorie Sweetner , Granulated

1/4 cup corn starch

1 3/4 cups water

4 egg yolks slightly beaten

2 tablespoons butter

1/2 cup lemon juice

2 teaspoons grated lemon

How I Managed The Pain of Abuse – Continued

“The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.”
― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

“The act of forgiveness takes place in our own mind. It really has nothing to do with the other person.”
Louise Hay


What I am about to write, and what you are about to read, may not be your cup of tea. It is not my intention to tell you how to handle the hurts that have happened throughout your life. This old guy recognizes that pain that has been inflicted through the actions of someone else is difficult even on the best of days.

I am writing to share how I arrived where I am today, yes, scarred, bruised, and sometimes dejected. I have found everyone heals differently, also how they approach handling rejection, accusations, and emotional hell.

I am not going to write a sermon, yet, I will say my faith has carried me throughout my roughest times.

There were times growing up that I would cry and ask, “why did I have to be born”, “what did I do wrong”? My self esteem was low and to put it nicely, I had to look up to touch bottom. I am sure that those who shot the arrows didn’t care about the deep pain they inflicted. I have learned that abusers take glee silently and it makes them feel superior over the abused.

There is a story I heard that sort of describes how I have managed the pain of the abuse both physically and emotionally. The farmer had a pig that fell into a deep hole. The hole was too deep for the farmer to rescue the pig. So, the farmer decided he would bury the pig live. He went for a shovel and started to throw dirt down over the pig. Well, the pig shocked the old farmer for what it did. You see, the pig shook off the dirt patted it under his feet. When the farmer saw that he realized how to rescue that pig. He started throwing dirt over the pig. Once again, the pig shook it off and patted it under his feet. It wasn’t very long that the pig had patted enough dirt under him that he was soon out of the pit.

I am not one that carries a grudge, I do not seek revenge, what I do though, I just cut the cord of that person out of my life.

Let me be honest, I do have my moments where I think about having a pity party. What my father did to me was create in me to work to be better than him. To do something with my life. I put blood sweat and tears learning to play that piano. Five years later I was traveling across my home country and America doing what I loved, playing the piano, singing, and then learning a new talent, playing an organ. No one can claim that they did that, nobody but me, I did all that and lifted myself out of a low self-esteem.

So dear reader, all I can say is, that was my road out of the pain. I am still a work in progress, but, I am not the old guy I was even five years ago!

Abuse, How I Escaped The Affects

Trigger Warning: This post contains subjects and issues that may be upsetting to some.

“You can recognize survivors of abuse by their courage. When silence is so very inviting, they step forward and share their truth so others know they aren’t alone.”
― Jeanne McElvaney, Healing Insights: Effects of Abuse for Adults Abused as Children


First, one statement about parents and children. Parents, it matters what and how you talk to your child. Those are things that could stay with them the rest of their life.


What I am writing in this post is not to elicit pity or sympathy. I write about this because abuse, child abuse, is still done behind closed doors. There has been great gains legally, laws require doctors, educators, and clergy to report any thing that may be child abuse.


I grew up with a volatile father. When he was home my siblings and myself walked around like walking on egg shells. We never knew when something would set him off. It usually ended with him treating me like his personal punching bag. That was the physical.

He was also emotionally abusive towards me. To this very day I cannot, for the life of me, recall a positive affirmation to me. Statements like, “you’ll always be poor”, “you are afraid of work”. I could bring home an “A” on a project or report card only to be met with, “can’t you do better”. That was the emotional abuse.

It wasn’t until I was in my teens that I was able to escape some of his temper tantrums. One escape was music, learning to play the piano. When everyone would leave the house I would sit at the piano trying to learn to play. Doing so was twofold, I was learning to play, but, also finding a release valve for my tormented mind.

Let me honest and frank, I still battle with the affects from those days. However, it is somewhat different, I now have learned tools in dealing with them. One was this blog, the other, once again, music. I have a home organ that I found for free and I can sit at it, put headphones on and just play my blues away. Also, I love iTunes. I can sit at the computer load some of my favorite music and get carried away listening to it. Many times it is while I am writing a post.

Now, back to my home life. There was one more way to escape my father. When I started high school I became involved with theater arts. It was a great way to escape into another world. The first play I was involved in was “The Miracle Worker”, the story of Helen Keller. The part I played was one of the ghost’s of Annie’s brothers. Annie had mental challenges for a night she would be haunted by the ghosts of her brothers in her mind, they tormented her to the point of almost insanity. Theater arts was my escape, I would go to school in the dark and wouldn’t arrive home until after my father would be in bed.

One tool I have used is I do not keep in touch with blood relatives who bring nothing but chaos and trouble. I have an unlisted phone number. There is only one blood relative that I stay in touch with back where I was raised.

I cannot tell someone what will work for them. I can say though, seek help, learn the tools, methods, on how to deal with the abuse. Also, you are not alone. Do not suffer in silence, there are helplines available that handle child abuse. You do not have to give your name, the do not use call display and they do not record the phone calls.

So, dear reader, child abuse is happening, happening behind closed doors. For many children they have learned to cover it up. They may wear clothing that covers the bruises and girls may use make up to hide their bruises. If you think a child is being abused, have signs that would point to abuse, do not hesitate to seek help on their behalf.



There is so much more that I would like to write about concerning this subject, but I have decided to break it into sections.

A Re-Blo“The scariest moment is always just before you start.” ~ Stephen King — It’s All in Your Head

So, a friend was talking to me about one of their family members who has been formally diagnosed with bipolar but refuses to get help with it even though they are having trouble functioning in their day-to-day life. When I asked my friend: “What all is family doing for him?” their response was this: “Most […]

“The scariest moment is always just before you start.” ~ Stephen King — It’s All in Your Head

Amazed Again!


“Embrace the social media and utilize it wisely to promote your brand. When you optimize the social media, you may go offline, but your brand will never go off-track.”
― Israelmore Ayivor, Shaping the dream


I am not sure how others think concerning their stats, but every once in a while WordPress gives me some great news. Maybe it is my stupid pride, or maybe I am a bit naïve. The other day I was looking for a certain post and found it hidden in the archives dating back to 2011.

Here is the small gem that WordPress gave me:

During those early years I didn’t see much movement on my blog. I was a newbie in WordPress with no experience or knowledge on how to start and maintain a blog.

November 2020 was the best month ever in the life of this blog.

These numbers were the shot in the arm that I needed. Fresh adrenaline to jump start this brain of mind. Fresh air to clean out the dust bunnies in my head.

Someone once said, “be careful of the little guy while going up the ladder, for you may meet him on your way down”.

I am always grateful for all those times people have written words of encouragement, those who offered insight on how to achieve certain things, and it is because of all those who read this that makes this blog work.

So dear reader as one opinion show anchor says, “watch this space”!